A time to mourn, and a time to dance

Today is Tracy's birthday. She would've been 42.

I've been in a funk all week. Realistically, I think it has to do with overly high expectations and tensions at work, training for the Tour de Pink, and lots of other things . . .

And then sweet Jamie posted her blog update today about it being Tracy's birthday . . .

I keep Tracy's remembrance card from the funeral in my car and I look at it almost every day. I wonder if by some strange act I happened to catch that this week . . . this day . . . was Tracy's birthday. I wonder if subconsciously that fact settled into my thoughts and moods and has driven me into a funk . . .

A poor excuse because in all actuality, I should not mourn the fact that Tracy is not here. That is selfish for me. She is without pain, without cancer, with her hair, her beautiful strong body, and her spirit is free to do what ever the hell she wants to do . .

But most importantly, in my mind's eye, I see Tracy doing the chicken dance. Because that is what she wanted to do most at her son Jason's wedding some day.

She will not get the chance to do that in her mortal form . . .but many of us will . . . on many other occasions with her on our minds and with smiles in our hearts.

We miss you Tracy . . . and now we dance!!

Still learning...

The last six weeks or so my life has been a dizzying whirlwind of emotion.

My feet have remained firmly planted on the ground while my heart spirals around grasping at various occurrences at complete contrast with each other, and my mind struggles to make sense of it all and prioritize the nonsense that happens in between. All the while, regular ol' life continues to move by: work inbox continues to fill and the bills continue to arrive in the mail.

I won't bother going backwards and coming forwards because honestly, it's too depressing. Just suffice to say that many friends have passed in too short of a time to be even fathomable. Add to that, that I enjoyed a wonderful birthday celebration and my beloved Columbus Blue Jackets have been enjoying tremendous success....and it has indeed been a whirlwind.

But I need to write about Jody.

I know about cancer. Knowing Jody has taught me about other things.I know I will get details of her story wrong and that is important to note right here at the top. But the gist is this: Jody WAS the epitome of a young woman with breast cancer. She WAS the Young Survival Coalition. Unfortunately, the disease that brought her into this sorority took her life on March 12, 2009.

But let's go backwards with her. I first posted about her back in September when her husband Marty was killed in the line of duty. But my friendship with her began long before then. I knew Jody before I met her. Back in late 2002, early 2003, when I coordinated tumor boards at OhioHealth her case was presented and I remember being struck: she had pointed out a lump in her breast to her doctor who had dismissed it and her as being "too young for breast cancer." These words are still heard much too often by YSC constituents. A little later she developed back pain. Later she went to the emergency room unable to move her right leg. Scans revealed a mass on her right femur as well as her sternum. Biopsies confirmed these as metastatic breast cancer.

I remember thinking "I must meet this girl." She walked into a support group I co-facilitated at Grant Medical Center. She had changed where was getting treated but she had still heard of the group. She was struggling with how to handle the anger at her first doctor. Ultimately she went on tv and told her story. I believe the doctor apologized to her. I am certain he or she will never forget her.

Over the next few years, Jody would come and go as she needed. She was not immediately on chemo and traveled and enjoyed her life as she always had. She became more and more involved with our local YSC chapter. More importantly, a man she had started to date just prior to her diagnosis, but then pushed away, showed back up. And he was not afraid of cancer, Marty Martin was not afraid of anything. In Marty, Jody found her true love and her soulmate. They married, built a farm, started a kennel to raise and train Belgian Malinois . . .

But then the cancer started to make it's vicious voice heard again. Jody was on chemo again and again. She had some surgeries. Still, I started to see her more and more as she became even more involved with YSC Central Ohio. My life shifted all over, but she was there. We exchanged emails and calls and Jody taught me about various subjects unrelated to cancer . . . dogs, vegetables, organic herbs.

And then Saturday September 6th happened. And Marty was gone. In the months since then I have seen Jody a few times, emailed with her a few times, and spoken on the phone a few times; the last of which was last Monday, March 9th. A mutual friend had said that Jody had returned from Chicago and that the outlook was not good, and that Jody was not returning calls or emails. I took a chance and Jody took my call. She wasn't completely honest with me, as Jody was prone to not be in these matters. . .she told me her bilirubin was very high, and that she planned to return to Chicago to formulate a plan, and that I could call her the following week.

On Wednesday, her mother, Nancy, called me and said Jody had turned, and asked if I could help in contacting some YSC friends. I headed to their house and remained there well into the night (many blessings upon the Carrico family for putting up with my presence). Much of my time was spent with Jody, laying with her and sitting with her, along with her family and friends. What an honor it is to be with someone as they are slipping away. What an honor to feel the pain and love in the room. It is truly palpable. It is something I hate to recommend but yet have no regrets about having done.

A gathering of YSC gals came out later and as they left I said my final goodbyes and left also, as Jody held on tenuously. And on Thursday she slipped away peacefully. On Monday, March 16th, we said good-bye, and Jody and Marty are now together again.

Jody's loss has gutted me more than any ones. For the last week, my heart has ached. For the last week, my chest has hurt from crying so much. I have broken down in the shower, in the car, and in Trader Joe's. I have swung from deep depressing sleepless hours to sheer exhaustion. Meanwhile, I have been expected to carry on as per usual at work and deal with whatever antics and drama arise. My priorities and capabilities have been questioned by some. In the midst of everything, I was shown what is truly important to me about other people.

I feel stronger that ever. I have learned so much in the last few weeks as I have gone through this - Jody still teaching :)

As I was dumping about all of this to a good friend recently, she said to me "You are a giver. And now you need to surround yourself with givers. Not takers."

Jody gave me so much.

The Big 4.0

So here it is.

I am turning 40 on this Sunday. I write this in the week prior with so much in my head and heart.

I approach this birthday milestone with what I feel may be more than the usual mixed bag of feelings that most women do when they round 39. I have the usual vanity complex: "omg - how did this happen? when did I turn 40? I don't feel 40! I hope I don't look 40! Am I really old now? Am I still beautiful?"

But being a breast cancer survivor makes 40 ironic as well. At 4o years old, I am now eligible to finally get "screening mammograms." However, as an 8 year survivor, I am long past that. In fact, at my recent annual gyn exam, during the intake with a new-to-me medical assistant, the conversation went something like this:

'Tifani': Sooooo...I see someone is about to turn 40!!! That means you now need to get screening mammograms (does this, I kid you not, with air quotes...turns to computer with my electronic record pulled up)...let's see....have you had a mammogram before?

me: (long pause) Yusssssss

'Tifani': Ah yes...I see it here....hmmmm it looks like they only did one side...I wonder why that is? Did you have some sort of issue? Was everything okay with this mammogram?

me: (staring hard at left hand static column of screen where "personal history significant for breast cancer. status post left mastectomy, chemo, oopherectomy" can be clearly seen, again...long pause) Yusssssss

'Tifani': Huh. Well, I don't know why...well that's certainly strange...it even says return in one year...(and then the pointer finally reaches the left hand column and hovers as Tifani takes it all in) ...OH!... oh...you...have...had...breast cancer? (and she turns to me)

me: (sighs with relief) Yes. And no, you do not need get me appointments for my mammograms. I have that all taken care of. And my oncologist keeps in touch with this doc. So how's about you take my blood pressure and we get this show on the road?

So there's that.

However, I also feel I have a few other layers to add on to it. In fact, a couple weeks ago, I was literally sitting in my office at work, choking back tears of guilt at the thought of celebrating a birthday.

Why?-you might ask?

Well- let's start with the not so obvious: I feel guilty celebrating when the world is in a complete crapper right now, when I have a few friends who have no job, no expendable income to speak of, and no real miracle of relief around the corner. Darfur, Somalia, AIDS, women's rights in 3rd world countries around the world, animals being slaughtered left and right, dogs being murdered simply because they look like a certain breed or had the misfortune to have been raised by idiots. . .
And then of course there is the really obvious: I feel guilt for celebrating a birthday that many of my survivor sisters did not, or will not, live to realize. In fact, in the last year alone I lost 6 friends, the oldest of whom was 39. And currently, I have many who many not make it to this age, or much past it, and literally count the days they do enjoy on this planet.
And then there was this week. I, along with many of my YSC sisters, and her family and friends, buried a woman who was diagnosed also at 32, also in 2001, and who passed away on Friday, February 20th. In the months leading up to her passing I knew it was coming, and yet I pushed it away. Tracy Pleva Hill inspired me with her strength and spirit. And she inspired so many others as well. All she wanted to do was to dance at her son's wedding and this has been taken form her. One of the other YSC Board members said that she cannot imagine attending the upcoming conference without Tracy there. I can't either. As I sit here and type this, a little more than 24 hours after her funeral, I still can't think of her and not catch my breath. I can't think of her family and their pain and just make it want to stop . . .

This, I suppose, is the ultimate "survivors' guilt," eh?

Quite the contrary to all of this, nearly 8 years ago (it will be 8 years on April 12th, 2009) when I was diagnosed, I am quite certain I never thought I would reach 40. On the day I was crying in my office a friend tried to console me by saying that certainly any of my friends, alive or dead, would want me to celebrate and not waste tears on them. I know Tracy would definitely want me to do that. But it offers little solace. This doesn't lessen the guilt. This doesn't lessen the terrible aching in my heart. This doesn't make me want to celebrate any more. It just all seems wrong. My party should include them . . . not be held in spite of their loss . . .

It's not that I don't want to acknowledge my birthday. Brian has planned a small dinner with a few close friends, followed but what I am sure will be me getting quite drunk. But I do not feel comfortable with either a large celebration, nor especially with any sort of mocking of this age.

This age is not to be mocked. This life is not to be mocked.

This disease is certainly not to be mocked for it is too strong to underestimate.

For all my friends who will not celebrating a birthday this year. . . I will pour some scotch into the ground . . . Happy Birthday to you . . .

Taking inventory…

The last four months cancer has had its fun . . . wreaking havoc on those in my life:

A close friend, living with metastatic breast cancer, lost her husband in the line of duty.
A close friend was given the news that her sister was diagnose with a rare form of untreatable adenoid carcinoma with a very low survival rate.
Another friend, also living with metastatic breast cancer, has been fighting for her life on a respirator.
Another friend, whose sister is in treatment, was given word that her suspicious biopsy is almost certainly cancer.
Yet another friend, who was only diagnosed with metastatic disease a few years ago, has had her whole treatment plan yet again changed.
Still another friend, also with metastatic breast cancer, who I had known “virtually” for some time, but only met in person this summer, passed away the morning after being told she had 3 months to live…

All of these friends are so young…all either under 40 now or when they were first diagnosed…

But there are other signs that cancer cannot touch everything in us.
There are signs that it cannot seep into our very pores and poison our souls…

One sister survivor was recently given the news that she is not showing any evidence of the disease that has been residing in her body for years.
Another friend is nurturing a pregnancy conceived after chemo, without ovaries!
Still another friend ~ not a survivor but a warrior as she is a breast surgeon! ~ not only finally brought home her beautiful adopted son but is now also expecting!
And that friend fighting for her life on a respirator?…she is opening her eyes and fighting her way back to us!
And the girl who was given her suspicious biopsy results?...she is going to fight like hell because she will not be alone!

So fuck off cancer . . . you picked the wrong people to mess with!

All the things I am thankful for...

I am thankful for. . .

1. My husband: the fact that he builds a fire every night, takes out the dogs before bed, and makes coffee every morning. I am so thankful that he takes care of me in all the small ways.
2. My dogs: they are sweet, nuzzling, warm, wiggly, smelly, kind, funny, smart, and teach me something new all the time. They have made my life better.
3. Cancer: weird huh? well it made me change so many things and made me a braver person.
4. Hockey!: the NHL Arena has been a place for me to learn and grow as a fan and I have found new friends! And I am now an official Columbus Blue Jackets nerd!
5. My car: again . . . weird . . . but it's cute and I love it and it is almost paid off!
6. My iPhone: okay this is insanely materialistic of me - sorry!
7. That Barack Obama won the election. 'nuff said.

I hope that the coming year brings peace and change. I hope that sanity rules and love reigns supreme. I hope that intelligence and strength are not looked upon as conflicting sides of the story.

And I hope that with each day we are closer to losing fewer and fewer young women to breast cancer.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Another great loss

This year has been a series of ups and downs. The downs have been devastatingly low.
Yesterday I was informed that a friend and fellow survivor, Heather Pick, had passed away at the tender age of 38 from metastatic breast cancer.
She had served on the inaugural Executive Council for the Central Ohio Chapter of the Young Survival Coalition. She served as our honorary co-chair for the first In Living Pink Fundraiser. I will never forget that she showed up without her wig (she almost never appeared in public without a wig) but had not brought her family members. "I didn't know family could come!" We were so amused by her humbleness. She did not want to participate with the YSC as a supportive person, rather she wanted to help us reach more young women through her media contacts and by providing us opportunities to get stories out about the YSC.
Heather als reported on innovative discoveries at Childrens Hospital and the Columbus Zoo. She also lent her beautiful voice a recording of music to benefit cancer research. She did so much in so short of a time.
The Columbus Dispatch did a nice write up today and I am sure there will be more to come. But I will leave you with these words of hers:

Don’t wait. Give someone an unexpected gift
just because you appreciate them.
Take your own loved ones
to a cherished community treasure
or try something completely new.

The Dash

Today I, along with Brian and several other close friends from the YSC, attended the funeral of the husband of my close friend, Jody Carrico-Martin. As noted in my prior post, Jody is battling stage IV breast cancer. Marty was killed in the line of duty early Saturday morning. Brian wrote about the funeral on the HELP FIDO blog and you can read the beautiful Dispatch article here. The funeral was epic. Rich in pageantry and formality - yet full of personal touches. There were hundreds of officers, a pipe and drum corp to play "Going Home" and "Amazing Grace," and the final call from dispatch for Marty's car. Marty's retired K-9 Unit dog Bul lead the coffin procession out of the church and from the hearse to its final resting place. Later, during the 21 gun salute Bul and all the other dogs present began to bark.
Extremely fitting.
Sherrif Jim Karnes spoke at the funeral about the cover of the funeral program. That there are two years noting a persons birth and death. But what matters most is the dash in between. This resonated with Brian and me. And I made a point to gather the YSC gals in attendance in a group hug and tell them that this moment is why we do what we do - it is why we are together as survivors and to support one and other in all matters. On a personal level, it is why I feel compelled to volunteer with the YSC, and with HELP FIDO. It is why I choose to recycle, eat locally grown everything, and work in research.
Your life is defined in how you live it. Marty lived his in service to the community, county and the country.
My thoughts are with Jody and Kyle, as well as all my YSC family members.
If you wish to help Jody - she has requested Kroger or Giant Eagle gift cards (she has dogs, chickens and goats to feed!), or Visa check cards.
Or you can send a check, made out to Jody Carrico-Martin.
Even notes and cards just showing support may help.
Please send these to:
YSC Central Ohio
7716 Rivers Edge Drive
Suite A
Columbus, OH 43235
or call 614.470.0300
**Amendment: The Dispatch article doesn't mention Jody so I will tell you a couple things. She looked beautiful. I am sure Marty was very proud of her and how she held it together for the service and internment. During the pipe band playing "Amazing Grace" I looked over for her and she had gotten up and laid hand her hand on the casket. It was an image that will remain seared in my memory for when I ever wonder what love is.**

A Shock to the System

So - I planned on writing a post on attending the Stand Up to Cancer telethon in Los Angeles. That was Friday night. It was cool - though I didn't get to meet any celebrities. I went with Lanita Moss - current YSC pres., and 2 west coast YSC-ers, Marissa and Lori. Wonderful gals! And we hooked up with a couple other YSC-ers who were there representing the Network of Strength org (formerly known as Y-Me). It was also great to connect with folks from other like-minded orgs such as i[2]y and Immerman Angels.
Well - all this was overshadowed on my way home Saturday day. I lucked out and got an early flight. Just as I was boarding, Brian called to tell me some awful news: a close friend's husband had died overnight in a car crash. Jody's husband Marty was a sherriff's deputy and was working and riding with another deputy. Rainy humid weather apparently caused them to hdyroplane and flip their SUV. Marty died en route to the hospital.
Jody is living with advanced breast cancer, diagnosed 5 years ago at the age of 30. Her health has been declining. Not that you would really know it as she sits on the local YSC council and does a variety of activities.
I am so devastated for her and angry at this disease. If she did not have breast cancer, losing Marty would be hard enough. If she did not have breast cancer, my first thoughts wouldn't be "How will she pay for treatment?" If she did not have breast cancer then she could just grieve. But I know there is more going through her head.
The Columbus Dispatch has done a nice article - probably appearing in Sunday's paper. If anyone comes across this blog (because I don't think people really read my blog yet), please place Jody and her family in your thoughts for a few minutes.